


I Know How It Feels

by carolcbp



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolcbp/pseuds/carolcbp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock knows about John's nightmare, but he never told him about his own, until that night when things got worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know How It Feels

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a bit short, but it's my first fic so be gentle. I'll try to write more now that I got the courage to do it. Hope you'll enjoy it! 
> 
> I don't owe Sherlock nor John nor anything, oh you got it.

Life on 221b Baker Street is interesting. Interesting is a good word to describe two men on their forty living together and solving crimes. John didn't use to complain much about his life, unless there was a head on the fridge, which he was afraid to think it happens more often than it should. 

But there were things he hasn't mentioned to Sherlock, like how he used to wake up almost every day feeling his heart dumping fast on his chest, his mouth dry and his head hurting; like how he still had nightmares some nights , memories coming back to chase him until he is not able to sleep anymore. He hasn't told Sherlock how he used to cry himself to sleep before he met the detective. He hasn't mentioned how his life had gotten so much better after that day in St. Barts, when that tall man had deduced his entire life. So, maybe, just maybe, interesting is a good word to describe the last few months. 

Sherlock isn't an easy person to live with, but he managed to make things exciting. The best detective in the world could see anything and could deduce anything, like how his roommate always looked tired in the morning and afraid to o to bed by the night. So he started paying more attention to it. After a month, Sherlock got used to John's nightmares, the screams and the steps going down to the kitchen right after it. He tried getting John to talk about the bad dreams, but it never worked, John always tried to assure Sherlock that everything was fine. Then, one night, it got worse. 

There was a noise coming from upstairs. Sherlock didn't usually wake up to random noises, but this time it was different, he heard steps. Of course it could be John having a hard time to fall asleep again, but it didn't sound like him. 

Sherlock got up from bad and tried to listen closely. The noise had stopped, but he could feel there was something wrong, so he ran upstairs and stopped in front of John's bedroom. He couldn't hear the noise anymore, but there was something wrong with that silent. The door was slightly open so he managed to see the tiny shape of a man curled around himself against the wall. 

"John?", Sherlock called, but no answer came in return. 

"John, are you ok? Talk to me", he asked, getting closer to the man on the floor. 

When he got to his side, a quite sob came out of John's mouth. He was crying, John was crying, the same man who shot a suspect through a window when they first met. 

"It's ok, it was just a nightma...", he cut himself when he saw John's eyes. They were empty, staring at nothing, but a strong rage was burning on them. It wasn't a nightmare, it was a flashback. 

Sherlock had never seen John having a flashback. It was terrifying, the man in front of him wasn't there, he was completely off. What could he be seeing to cause such a fear? A fear that Sherlock had never seen in his eyes.

"You're in Baker Street, John. What you're seeing isn't real, just calm down, ok."

It wasn't working, the fear was still there, but there was one thing Sherlock hadn't noticed before. On the right hand, John was holding his gun.

"You don't want to do anything stupid, do you? C'mon, just let go of the gun."

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you?", John answered for the first time. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do?"

"John, I don't..."

"I saw you! You've killed him, and now you want to kill me!"

Sherlock didn't know what he was talking about, but it must be something terrible that happened in the war, maybe a friend that John watched die.

"I'm not who you think I am. This isn't the war anymore, John, you're safe, you're..."

"Shut up! Shut up or I'll kill you right now!", and then the gun was pressed against Sherlock's forehead. "Why should I let you live?"

"Because this isn't real, you are not in danger anymore!"

"You think I'll believe you, who do you think you are?" 

"It's me. Sherlock! You're in Baker Street with me, you're safe! Please, John, come back to me...", he begged, but the cold metal was still pulsing against his forehead. 

"You don't want to do this, I know you don't. What you're seeing isn't real, you're not in danger, you're safe. Just wake up, please", Sherlock tried one more time, hoping that the eyes in front of him would come back to life. "If you pull that trigger, I'll never get the chance to understand what is going on between us. I'm sure you know because you always understand this kind of things, but all of this is new to me, John. I've been trying to put a name to all this things that I'm felling, but it's too complicated! You should be the one to help me! Only you can do this, John!"

"Stop lying to me! You've killed him, it was you! I should blow your head right now, you bastard!" 

The doctor's voice was shaking. His eyes were still off, looking at Sherlock but not actually seeing him. He was, with no doubt, afraid of what he was imagining. How could something be so terrifying that turned the bravest and the kindest man into that tiny person who was crying on the floor?

"I know who you are and I know what you're capable of. You have no idea how it feels to be trapped and being forced to watch a friend die in front of you! You don't know how it feels!"

"Yes, I do", Sherlock answered calmly. John stopped and stared Sherlock for a moment, listening to the other man. 

"I know how it feels to be helpless when the life of a man depends on you, and you have to watch that person die because you weren't brave enough, or fast enough, or strong enough. I know the look everyone gives to you right after it, because it was all your fault. Not even your own mother has the guts to look at your eyes.", it was all true. Sherlock knew about John's nightmares but he didn't let anyone know about the nights he spent awake and scared of closing his own eyes and seeing the ghosts he had created himself. "God, John, you think I don't, but I do know how it is to feel broken, every time I watch you I feel this way, like if there was something wrong with me, and I know it's true. I'm broken, John! I look at myself in the mirror and I see all the scars... You have scars too, but they are from a war, you fought to deserve them. I didn't fight and I'm not proud of my scars, I'm ashamed of them! I...", Sherlock couldn't hold the tears anymore, so he took a deep breath and let them out. John didn't move his arm, still pointing the gun at Sherlock's head. 

"I know how it feels being close to death and having no one to say goodbye to. I know how it feels to be touched by someone you don't want to be touched by, being forced to do things you're ashamed of. You may think I'm a robot, John, but I'm as broken on the inside as I am on the outside, and I don't know why, after all of this, you're still behind me when I'm chasing a suspect. That's why I find you so unbelievable and fantastic and amazing! I've been through the same things as you have and, while I try to get away from people, you manage to put your feelings behind everyone else's! I don't understand you, John, but I want to. You are the only puzzle worth solving! So, please, don't do this! I'm not the one you want to kill, I know I'm not. Please, John, please..." 

"You are not broken...", John finally answered, back from the flashback. 

"You're everything but broken, Sherlock. And I'm- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", his voice cracked at the last word. 

Everything was ok, not fine because they would have a lot to talk about, but it was ok. Sherlock took John into his arms and they stayed like that for a while, just holding each other tightly. They were both crying, even though neither of them admitted it latter, but nothing else mattered at the moment. John was alive, he was fine and safe, so nothing else mattered.


End file.
